Jet lag just hit me.
It's almost midnight.
I'm forcing myself to write this post before the day slips by.
I had intended to spend a least an hour studying verb conjugations from this morning's class (mirar=to eat, hablar=to speak, soy & estar=to be, creer=to think, tener=to have, vivir=to live).
But after class I decided to rent a bike and explore Valencia.
I was clearly feeling overconfident in my navigation skills, because I took off for the sea and got lost for at least an hour out of town.
I mean really, really lost.
I seriously wondered if I would ever find the bike store and my poor friend Tricia who was sitting there waiting for me.
I am now keenly aware of how much Spanish I don't know and that I must study how to ask for directions tomorrow.
------------
Class starts at 9am.
It is clear 22-year-old Luis got some sleep.
He is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and conjugating the verb "comer" (to eat) like a wild man.
He and 19-year-old Jules, who is wearing a crisp, pink t-shirt today, say the meals in Spain are too small, and they are both hungry.
(I find myself wanting to meet Jules' mom and tell her how darling, respectful, and intelligent her son is.)
I struggle recalling the vocabulary we learned yesterday.
I keep telling myself it's okay. I will NOT be tested on this.
I totally slay a couple of worksheets and know I'm making progress, even though I don't really feel like I am.
----------
My favorite part of the day is the 5th hour of class.
My teacher, probably in her 60s, is super spunky with died reddish hair.
She has vibrant eyes, a hearty laugh, and the most generous spirit.
She is a former anthropologist and seems to have taken Luis, the broke, anthropologist graduate, under her wing.
She has the dark-haired Brit and I join her at the white board in the front of the classroom and sing into colored markers "Sub-ma-ri-no Am-a-rill-o Es"...to the tune of the Beatles' Yellow Submarine.
We must sing this line 15 times.
I am cracking up at the scene.
She calls up Jules to join us and tries to add dance moves.
He thinks this is simply too ridiculous and can't play along.
I picture my boys being forced to sing with 2 old ladies in Spain and don't blame him one bit.
I feel an extra dose of affection for Luis for engaging in this fun yet humiliating exercise.
Class flies by.
I pray I can keep up the enthusiasm for 3 more days!
It's almost midnight.
I'm forcing myself to write this post before the day slips by.
I had intended to spend a least an hour studying verb conjugations from this morning's class (mirar=to eat, hablar=to speak, soy & estar=to be, creer=to think, tener=to have, vivir=to live).
But after class I decided to rent a bike and explore Valencia.
I was clearly feeling overconfident in my navigation skills, because I took off for the sea and got lost for at least an hour out of town.
I mean really, really lost.
I seriously wondered if I would ever find the bike store and my poor friend Tricia who was sitting there waiting for me.
I am now keenly aware of how much Spanish I don't know and that I must study how to ask for directions tomorrow.
------------
Class starts at 9am.
It is clear 22-year-old Luis got some sleep.
He is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and conjugating the verb "comer" (to eat) like a wild man.
He and 19-year-old Jules, who is wearing a crisp, pink t-shirt today, say the meals in Spain are too small, and they are both hungry.
(I find myself wanting to meet Jules' mom and tell her how darling, respectful, and intelligent her son is.)
I struggle recalling the vocabulary we learned yesterday.
I keep telling myself it's okay. I will NOT be tested on this.
I totally slay a couple of worksheets and know I'm making progress, even though I don't really feel like I am.
----------
My favorite part of the day is the 5th hour of class.
My teacher, probably in her 60s, is super spunky with died reddish hair.
She has vibrant eyes, a hearty laugh, and the most generous spirit.
She is a former anthropologist and seems to have taken Luis, the broke, anthropologist graduate, under her wing.
She has the dark-haired Brit and I join her at the white board in the front of the classroom and sing into colored markers "Sub-ma-ri-no Am-a-rill-o Es"...to the tune of the Beatles' Yellow Submarine.
We must sing this line 15 times.
I am cracking up at the scene.
She calls up Jules to join us and tries to add dance moves.
He thinks this is simply too ridiculous and can't play along.
I picture my boys being forced to sing with 2 old ladies in Spain and don't blame him one bit.
I feel an extra dose of affection for Luis for engaging in this fun yet humiliating exercise.
Class flies by.
I pray I can keep up the enthusiasm for 3 more days!
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